Goblin Law Dictates
by Kipling Nori
Summary: Seven years after her venture into the labyrinth, Sarah is living a life she always wanted. Only something is missing, and it is most definitely a Goblin King. However, due to a strange set of circumstances, and an antiquated law, Sarah may get more than she bargained for. Does she want to become a Goblin Queen?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Nothing belongs to me!

* * *

She was cursed. It was official: Sarah Williams was undateable.

Despite her best intentions, and despite her history of enthralling a Goblin King with little effort, Sarah could, in no way, make the opposite sex stick around.

Sarah's current boyfriend of six months (a record at this point), Phillip Jeffries, had that look in his eyes. The 'it's not you, it's me' look. Currently sitting across from her, latte in hand, he offered a wan smile. He invited her out to a simple coffee at their favorite London café just to 'talk'. Sarah knew what was coming next.

It was sort of her track record, if she was being perfectly honest with herself. She bit her lower lip as she tried to fight the onslaught of memories. She wasn't even going to venture into the territory where a king had once held her captive in a labyrinth. Because, that wasn't real. Right? No, she considered her real _first_ interested boy to be Thomas Newton. Cute little drama-nerd Tommy, a mop of curly brown hair and an eager smile. He was in Sarah's class in her junior year; the first real boy to show any interest in her. Tommy and Sarah had played Romeo and Juliet that year, and of course that meant they were meant to be. And despite Sarah's near three inch height difference, Tommy's gumption and spirit well made up for it.

As time went by, they got as far as kissing, but by month two of young love, Sarah heard the fateful words that would follow her around like a sullen cloud. " _I think you don't like me as much as I like you."_

" _What?"_ Sarah had exclaimed. _"Of course I like you!"_

But Tommy had moved on to Bethany Clark faster than his little legs could carry him. A new Juliet, a new girl to obsess over.

Once again Sarah was back to reciting prose alone in the park. A fluffy dog to keep her company. And nothing more.

A year later, senior year, another boy showed interest in Sarah: David Jones. Straw-like blonde hair and curious hazel eyes; they were well-suited immediately. (Irene, Sarah's ever persistent step-mother agreeing with the match as soon as she heard the good news.)

" _You don't really seem that into me,"_ David said after a couple of months of getting to know one another. He had taken her to the park to break up with her. _Her_ park! The nerve.

" _What!? Of course I do."_ Sarah remembers forcing the biggest smile she could muster. If she analyzed it further, forcing smiles around boys who liked her had become second nature.

David wasn't convinced. He hugged her, told her he'd see her at school, and walked himself home alone. Once again, Sarah was left to wonder what she had done wrong.

It didn't take long for David to move on; soon he was messing around with Angela, an exchange student whose reputation of making boys cry proceeded her.

Time went on, Sarah grew up. However, college hadn't changed much of anything. It was, however, an amazing distraction. She could throw herself into her school work, and forget about life in her sleepy town. Forget the memories that plagued her every time she sat foot in her room. To stop listening for the beat of owl wings overhead…

Life continued to progress, and she graduated. Sarah scored herself an internship at a theatre in London's West End and a gig pulling pints at a pub with a flat to rent above it.

In such a short amount of time, her life had become as exciting as she had hoped it would be, only so much more different than she could have imagined.

But still, it was nearly impossible to find man who was interested in her. She was funny and fun, or so she thought. She considered herself to be attractive, people always told her how pretty she was. Excitable green eyes contrasting long dark hair; she often found people staring. But why was it that she couldn't convince any boys, or men, rather, that she liked them?

Phillip cleared his throat, pulling Sarah from her swirl of thoughts. She could see it on his face, he was trying to let her down gently.

Hestarted with,"it's not that I don't like you, Sarah…" He listed off reasons why they weren't well suited as lovers, maybe just friends. Phillip was her first serious boyfriend, so this kind of breakup wasn't going to be easy for her. He continued, his lilting east London accent softening the blow. If at all. "You seem... distant when we're together. I like you, I just don't think you like me. You say all the right things, do all the right things, and to be honest, most blokes would kill to have you as their girlfriend, or even a friend with benefits. But there aren't really even benefits _,"_ he had stopped as he realized Sarah was near tears. That last part was a cheap shot. Sarah went slow when it came to giving more intimately, which she realized could have been a problem. "I'm sorry, love." He shrugged, "I guess I feel like you're dating someone, just not me."

The last part surprised her. Someone, just not me? What does that mean?

Sarah finally found her voice, "I don't really know what to say…" And what could she say? She was sad, yet somehow relieved? She really could not understand what was wrong with her. Phillip was right. Her heart wasn't completely in their relationship. Maybe love just wasn't for her.

Still, rejection hurt. A lot.

"Let's stay friends," Phillip offered.

Sarah watched him pull a twenty pound note out of his wallet, well more than enough to cover their coffees and left with a half-hearted smile and a, _"see you around."_

They worked together. She _would_ see him around, and soon. She steeled herself as best she could in order to take the tube back to her flat home.

As she sat on the train, she half-heartedly attempted to not cry, while crying all the same. Nervous British passengers looked at her, but decided against saying or doing anything.

Her flat was empty when she arrived; her flat mate was on holiday with her boyfriend.

Even her silly, bumbling flat mate could find companionship.

And Sarah knew that being with a man wasn't all it was chalked up to be. It wasn't the end all, be all. She was a strong, independent woman. She was beautiful, smart, funny, successful… (if you called pulling the perfect pint and supervising dress rehearsals successful). But she hated how boys, _men_ , made her feel so... so unlikable.

"What is wrong with me?" She asked herself, aloud. Not expecting a response. And certainly not getting one.

If there was a way Sarah could take out her heart, her figurative, emotion-filled heart, she would get a better look at what truly was wrong with her.

She just never could face it. It hurt too much.

But despite this, there was a glimmer of something. A spark of hope she held onto, although she spent years trying to let it go. Maybe now was the time to revisit what she had locked away for so long. She had held off long enough.

It had been _seven_ years.

 _Don't say his name,_ she half-warned herself. She mostly wasn't afraid of him hearing. She was afraid of another rejection. And a rejection from him would hurt like hell.

Her heart felt like it was going to burst, she let out the cry she had been holding in her chest.

It happened, before she could stop herself. _"Jareth..."_ It was barely above a whisper. She wasn't even sure she had voiced it in the first place. There was no way he could have heard her, right?

A wave of relief was instantly accompanied by a wave of anxiety. Nothing felt different. She was still in her apartment, and she was still alone.

"Jareth." This time she said it louder.

Nothing. Silence.

Sarah stood up from her stupor, and ran to the front windows, eagerly awaiting a white barn owl to appear. All she could see was London's busy cityscape, nothing more.

She scrambled around her closet-sized flat, checking and double-checking every room. Not even a speck of glitter.

Sarah fought the encroaching sadness to little avail. She broke down. And sobbed.

After she managed to crawl into her bed, Sarah cried herself into ever-encompassing sleep.

* * *

 _I move the stars for no one._

The Goblin King's voice jolted her awake. Yet she woke up to a cold darkness, alone in her room.

She wondered how long she had slept. Her head was pounding and her eyes were puffy, usual signs of crying oneself to sleep.

Now she felt numb and disjointed. It was probably time to get ready for work. To face yet another day.

"It's time to get up it is!" A little voice called out from darkness. Sarah yelped, and as she did, heavy curtains were pulled from away from the windows, allowing bright sunlight to spill into the room.

This was not her bedroom. This was not her bed. This wasn't even her world.

The voice in the room came from a little Goblin-maiden, scurrying across the floor. This was clearly a dream, there was no way this was real.

"Time to get up!" She said again. The Goblin then chuckled to herself and Sarah watched the door to her 'bedroom' open and close, leaving her alone in the strange place.

Sarah squeezed her eyes shut. "Wake up, wake up!" Dreams like this were only going to hurt her, not help.

"Wake up from what, Sarah?" A voice asked.

Sarah's heart nearly stopped. The voice that had haunted her for years. Smooth like velvet, yet full of sharp, sinewy edges. She had wondered if she would ever hear it again.

Sarah forced her eyes open. Jareth stood at the edge of her bed. He looked like he had jumped right out of her memories, he looked exactly the same.

"This isn't real. This can't be happening," Sarah finally said. Her breath hitched and her voice quavered.

His cat-like stare was boring holes into her. "Can't it, though?" He placed a gloved finger to his lips, feigning being lost in thought. "I do recall you asking for me."

"You look the same," she blurted out abruptly.

Jareth's lips twisted upward into a slight smirk, "you... do not."

He moved closer and sat at the edge of the bed. Suddenly everything appeared a little too real. Sarah was now fully aware that she was wearing a small nightgown that was not her own, and offered an ample view of her cleavage.

Jareth, ever such a gentleman, kept his eyes on her face. But she knew what he was inferring. She was now a woman. Very obviously so.

Sarah swallowed. "I … when…" She looked around the room, she hated looking at his face. Because somehow it hurt to look at him. "Is this real?"

It hurt to look at him, mainly because she was now fully aware of how 22 year-old Sarah would react in seeing him in the flesh. Her younger self had an inkling of an attraction, but she had mainly just been frustrated and annoyed, pricked with slight intrigue.

And now…and now… Sarah wanted to peel off her nightgown and …

"As real as you want it to be." He flashed a wolf-ish grin, and Sarah's cheeks flushed.

 _Dear God Sarah, GET IT TOGETHER._

Sarah had wanted to see him again for so many years. Had wanted to ask so many questions. Had wanted to see his kingdom again, but as a visitor and not a captive.

Now she had the opportunity and she she could think about was what his hands would feel like on her bare skin.

Jareth cocked an eyebrow, "my dearest, are you feeling alright?"

 _My dearest?_

Jareth reached forward to, she guessed, feel her forehead. Sarah dodge his hand like it was a live snake. She wasn't sure what she would do to him if he touched her, she needed to get a grip on herself first.

"Sarah, I'm not going to bite you," he said, a twinkle flashing in his eyes.

 _Oh, how I wish you would…_

He nodded toward the heavy armoire in the room, a shimmering lavender gown had appeared, perched upon a hangar. It was absolutely beautiful.

"You might want to get ready, we have several days of festivities to join."

Sarah blinked at the dress and then back at him. Her green eyes memorizing every detail of his face, in case this was, in fact, just a dream. His two different eyes, his wiry, intricate hair… the structure of his face.

"Festivities?"

"Yes, right before the final ceremony." He said it in such a matter of fact way.

"Final ceremony?"

"Are you feeling okay?"

Sarah offered a small smile, "yes, sorry… I guess, I don't really know what's going on…"

Jareth's look of concern melted into an all-knowing smirk. "Well, as Goblin Law dictates…" He paused before adding, "We are to be married."

"Wait, what?!"


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed! Sorry this chapter is late, but here it is nonetheless!

A/N: I don't own Jareth or Sarah, sadly

* * *

"Married? ...Married."

"Sarah, you keep repeating the word married. Does it not mean the same thing in the human world?"

Sarah blinked. "What does it mean here?"

"The state of being united as spouses in a consensual and contractual relationship recognized by law." Sarah couldn't help but notice Jareth grin at the word 'consensual'. He pointed with his gloved-finger to make a point. "Goblin law!"

"But ..." She smiled. "You're not being serious. This is just a dream, right? I have a job to get back to, dress rehearsal." She gestured wildly. "A plant to water! I just can't get married."

Jareth stood up with a ' _hmph_ ' and walked over to a desk in the corner. Sarah watched him glide across the room; his pants left little to the imagination — something that was lost on her younger self, but wasn't lost on her now. It wasn't helping her concentration.

He nodded towards the desk, which now had an ornate scroll draping atop it. It appeared to be gleaming. "Take a look for yourself."

Sarah slid off the bed, stepping down onto the floor into the sunlight flooding in through the castle windows. "What is that?"

"The law."

"And it'll explain what's happening?"

Jareth cocked a brow. "Unless you'd prefer to stand in front of a sunlit window wearing nothing but a see-through nightgown."

Sarah gasped, looked down at herself and immediately wrapped her arms around her chest and shuffled over towards the desk.

"You're loving this aren't you," she grumbled.

He made a grand sweeping gesture of feigning annoyance, as if he was paying her no attention at all. "Sarah, my dear, we are soon to be wed. Before long not even this silly fabric will come between us." He tugged gently at the sleeve. Sarah yanked her sleeve away and offered a glare, only to be met by a wolfish grin.

"Wed, huh? Well we will see about that." Sarah peered down the glimmering scroll. It was all in a strange gibberish language she couldn't read.

"It's written in Goblin Tongue," Jareth said after watching her frustration grow.

Sarah threw her hands up in defeat. "I can't read this anyway."

Jareth rolled his eyes. "Always the dramatic." He pointed at a particular spot on the scroll. "Look closer. Here."

She acquiesced and leaned further in to inspect the writing. The scroll, while humming with magical energy, was slightly dusty, much like most the castle it seemed. Sarah squinted and watched the strange characters transform themselves into modern day English letters. When she would look away it would resume its original script. She focused her eyes on the characters as she watched them move and sway from odd to recognizable. They were indeed English words, although the translation seemed frivolous and clunky.

"Amazing," Sarah muttered under her breath. It certainly was a sight to behold.

Jareth watched her, his strange eyes taking in her form. "Yes, it is isn't it?" He gestured to a particular paragraph. "Read here, aloud.'

Sarah scrunched her face briefly at his odd request, but did as she was told. " _For once the Goblin King is of age to choose a marital companion, either a choice who is of noble blood of fae origin, or of such one who has championed the Labyrinth.._." Sarah could see where this was going, " _once the Goblin King has made a suitable choice, upon his heart, this choice cannot be broken_."

Standing up from her bent position, Sarah kept her eyes on his. "Upon ...your heart?"

She was surprised at how serious his face was. "It was not my intention to have this happen, Sarah. I hope you know this."

Now she was caught in an awkward position. All these years, if she had read this correctly, he had been in love with her? All these years of moving on from her adventure in the Labyrinth, something always tugged at her. Held her back. Influence her life, her steps. Was it him? Or was it her own feelings for him? Was this mutual?

She just stood there dumbly. "I'm sorry, I don't know what to say."

His face darkened, for a moment she was frightened. He nodded back to the scroll. "Keep reading."

She swallowed hard and nodded. Picking back up from where she left off, she read: " _it cannot be broken. For such receiver of the King's affections needn't worry, for their place at his side will be secure for all eternity. And if this companion so chooses to break the unbreakable, only death will result_."

"Wait... death?!"

Shaking his head, he stood to his full height. "It's my curse to bear, Sarah. You now have to share it with me. Only I had hoped the feeling was mutual."

Sarah realized she had hurt Jareth. But to be fair, that had not been her intention. It wasn't every day you woke up to a forced proposal and possible declaration of love. And in a dusty, magical castle, no less.

As if coming out of his stupor, his signature glass ball appeared upon the tips of his fingers. Sarah watched it roll expertly up and down his gloved hand.

"And to think I was going to tell you how many children we were going to have," he smirked.

Sarah felt her cheeks grow red. Children meant... Her eyes briefly glanced down at his overly tight trousers.

"Wait, you're distracting me." She pointed to the scroll, or at least to where it had been. The strange Goblin parchment had now curiously disappeared. Like magic. "It said: 'death will result'."

"I didn't write that law, Sarah."

"Well, who did? You're the king, you can undo it."

Jareth's face fell. He sighed and shook his head. "Since it wasn't written by me, I cannot reverse it. Or break it. It was written eons ago, by another Goblin King, no doubt. Just as desperate and foolish as one can conceive. Therefore it cannot be broken. I made the mistake of making a decision upon my heart. Only it's a mistake that has dire consequences."

Sarah felt her chest tighten. To him this all seemed so black and white. But giving into this meant giving up her life. Giving up everything for one man. Could she really do that?

"I will let you think it over," he said before making his way to the bedroom door.

"Wait! You're just going?"

He swiveled away from the door and stood straight in front of her so quickly, she had to catch her breath. He was imposing. His towering height, his odd eyes boring into hers. He was so close, she could just reach out and touch him. She wished he was touching her. "What do you want from me, Sarah? You called for me, which activated an antiquated law. You know what I want. What do you want, Sarah? This isn't easy for me. And I'm not patient."

Her heart drummed in her ears as she found her voice. She had to look away from his intense stare.

"Well it's just a lot to take in. I mean, I guess I'm old enough to get married." She couldn't help her stammering words. "But I hardly know you, and I don't know if I want to be married yet. Or at all. And my life, my life at home. My father, Toby..."

Jareth inched closer, he was now within arm's reach. He could reach out and make contact. Touch her, caress her. And she was aching for it, and he knew it.

"I will give you 48 hours to decide." Sarah was reminded of her first venture into the Labyrinth, making a deal with a wayward fae king, who changed the rules at the drop of a hat. She should know better than that, but what choice did she have?

 _Kiss me, just kiss me, please_. She cursed herself for wanting him so badly, and yet here she also was rejecting him.

Jareth pointed towards the lavender dress hanging up. "Put that on."

Just like that, he was gone. And Sarah had never felt more uncertain in all her life.


End file.
